The freeways of America are like giant veins twisting and turning, rushing life from one zone to the next. The landscape is a giant body just lying there feeling the rumble.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
I've been on every interstate highway in the lower forty-eight states by now, and I never get tired of the view.
Our engineering departments build freeways which destroy a city or a landscape, in the process.
The freeways create economic and racial borders in Los Angeles. South of Interstate 10 is one group of people, west of the 10 another, and south of the 405 North yet another.
Los Angeles is an amazing city to live in, but the traffic is unbelievable. It's overwhelming at times. It's the source of a lot of frustration.
America's highways, roads, bridges, are an indispensable part of our lives. They link one end of our nation to the other. We use them each and every day, for every conceivable purpose.
Speed bumps, I was thinking, you know, you're driving along, everything's OK, and then there's a speed bump to go, 'Slow down.' Go over it real slowly, and you hit the pedal, and you keep going, and I just thought it was kind of a nice metaphor for life.
I don't do freeways.
Shoot, after you've been through freeway traffic in Houston or Dallas, there's no road in the world that can scare you. Besides, we're pretty much used to driving long distances in Texas.
Interstate highways dull the reality of place and distance almost as effectively as jetliners do: I loathe their scary monotony.
If you travel around America you see different sections of highways donated by this or that person, and that's a slow beginning of what may end up being a situation common in the Third World: some sections of highways in wealthy areas are beautifully maintained and other parts are just dirt-strewn potholes.